Mr Monk and the Winchester Boys
by Future Mrs. Winchester
Summary: A Supernatural/ Monk crossover. So basically Dean, Sam, and Monk are teaming up. Should be funny. Hope you guys enjoy the ride. R&R please.
1. This Sucks

In the middle of the night, Dean and Sam receive an unexpected phone call from Ellen. Sounding worried, she tells them she is scared that an old friend of hers and their dad's, Frank Sanders, is in trouble. Frank happens to be a retired hunter living in San Francisco. While looking through John's old phone, they noticed several calls from Frank Sanders. The two brothers hurry to investigate. When they find Frank pinned to the wall dead in his own apartment, the San Francisco police burst in on the scene and things don't look too good for Dean and Sam. But when Adrian Monk enters the scene and announces that they aren't "The Guys," he, rather reluctantly, is thrown into the terrifying world of the Winchesters. Plus, Lilith is on the move. Could she be behind the death of Frank? Well, you'll just have to read and find out.

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any of the characters in Monk or Supernatural. Thank you.**

**Mr. Monk and the Winchester Boys**

Chapter 1: This Sucks

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"This sucks. Big time."

Sam Winchester sighed. He was forced to agree with Dean. The two of them were chained to a table in an interview room at the San Francisco Police Department. This seemed to be becoming a regular thing for them.

"What are we gonna do, Sammy?" Dean asked in a monotone voice.

Sam shrugged. "It didn't look too good when the police came in when we found Frank on the wall. That's pretty much enough evidence for them."

Dean groaned.

"Damn."

Meanwhile, behind the window looking in on the two brothers, a rather tired man with a moustache and an uptight looking man were gazing intently at the brothers. Captain Leland Stottlemeyer sighed and asked, "Are you sure?"

The other man nodded. "I'm one hundred percent sure. They're not the guys."

Stottlemeyer glanced over at him. Adrian Monk nodded and continued, "The man had to be up there for at least two days. I mean, he marked the days on the calendar everyday. He was two days behind. And the neighbors didn't call to report seeing them at his house until around two forty this afternoon. There's nothing at the crime scene suggesting a struggle or that there had been more than one attacker. And finally, the sulfur at the scene. Those two don't have any sulfur on them to drop." Monk nodded again and repeated, "They're not the guys."

Stottlemeyer sighed again. "Fine," he said, "Do you have any idea who it could have been?"

Monk shook his head. "No. It's weird. There are no prints, no sign of a struggle. And there's nothing holding him onto the wall. He's just stuck there. I have no idea what could have done that."

Stottlemeyer nodded, convinced, but Monk held up his hand. "I want to ask them some questions," he said. Stottlemeyer looked at him questioningly. "I want to see what they know. They're hiding something."

The door to the room opened, and Dean and Sam looked up at the same time. A stiff looking man in a brown suit stood in the doorway. He put the handkerchief he had used to cover his hand while touching the handle neatly in his pocket. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Hello," the man said, waving akwardly.

"Well howdy doo," Dean said, and Sam closed his eyes in horror.

"My name is Adrian Monk," he said, pulling a wipe from out of his pocket and wiping the seat before sitting down. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Do we have a choice?" Dean asked.

Monk looked at him with a penetrating stare. "No Mr. Winchester, I guess you don't."

Sam opened his eyes, going pale. Dean, for once, was speechless, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Monk smiled.

"How do you…," Sam started to ask, but he was cut off.

"We found his list of emergency contacts at the scene, clutched in his fist. Winchester was at the top of the list, so I assumed it was you," Monk said, as though a five year old could have done it.

Sam was fascinated. "How did you know it was there?"

"There was an opened notebook under a table with a page torn out."

"And then you found it, in his hand, just because there was a torn page in a notebook?" Dean asked skeptically.

Monk nodded. 'It's a gift. And a curse." Dean just stared at him, and Monk shifted uncomfortably, and then cleared his throat. "Now, how did you know Mr. Sanders?"

Dean was silent, looking completely pissed off. Sam glanced at Dean, rolled his eyes, and answered the question. "Frank knew our dad and our friend Ellen. Ellen called us, heard we were in the San Francisco area, asked us to check up on him. Then we went to his apartment and found him on the wall."

That was mostly the truth. He had, of course, left out the part about what had killed Frank. That wouldn't exactly fly.

"And how did you…," Monk tried to start, but Dean interrupted him.

"Look, it's obvious to you guys that we're guilty. So why don't you stop with the questions and lock us up already? I hate waiting."

Sam wanted desperately to kick the crap out of Dean, but Monk smiled again.

"I know you two are innocent."

The Winchesters stared. "Excuse me?" Dean asked in shock.

"I've seen the crime scene. It just doesn't add up. There's no way you two could have killed Mr. Sanders."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, and then back at Monk. "So…," Dean said, still confused, but Sam finished for him. "Can we go?"

Monk sighed. It was obvious he wasn't getting anything from these two. "Yes," he said, standing. An officer entered and removed the cuffs and chains. Dean and Sam stood at the same time. When they tried to exit the room, Monk stopped Dean. "Excuse me, but you jackets a little crooked. Let me get that for you…," He attempted to even out Dean's leather jacket. Attempted being the key word.

"Dude! Get off me!" Dean furiously swatted Monk's hands away. Sam pulled Dean out of the room.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot," he said to Monk. Stottlemeyer appeared beside Monk, and they watched the two brothers leave. Stottlemeyer looked at Monk. He didn't know what his expression meant, but he didn't like it.

Monk stood at the window and watched the Winchesters open the doors of a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala in the impound lot. Sam glanced up and saw Monk watching them. He said a few words to his brother, and Dean looked at the window, too. There was an awkward moment as the three stared each other down. Dean looked away, and the two climbed into the car, and the engine roared to life. The Impala pulled out of the lot and drove off into the street.

"So…" Monk jumped and turned to see Stottlemeyer and Lt. Randy Disher beside him. "How are you doing, you know, with Natalie on vacation?" Randy asked, in his bright and clueless tone.

"Oh fine, fine," Monk said, distracted. "I have to go. It's chicken pot pie night." He left the station, clutching a matchbox he had found in Dean's jacket pocket. "The Golden Gate Motel" was emblazoned in big yellow letters.

He smiled to himself, and walked down the side walk, toughing each of the parking meters as he went.


	2. An Unexpected Arrival

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Arrival

"_Sam!"_

"_Dean!"_

_Dean felt a wave of relief wash over him, and smiled for the first time in days. Until a dark figure appeared behind Sam, holding a knife. Relief was replaced by fear instantly. Dean's smile faded as he and Bobby started to run. "Sam! Look out!"_

_Jake plunged the knife into Sam's back, and took off in the other direction. "NOOO!" Dean screamed, sprinting to Sam, who had fallen to his knees, his face full of pain. Bobby chased after Jake. Dean fell to his knees in front of Sam, dropping his weapons and seizing Sam's shirt. "Sam, Sam, come here let me look at you…," he took him into his arms, and felt the blood. He looked at his hands and froze. There was no hope for Sam. He was surely dead. _

_NO. No, he could not die. Not Sammy. He couldn't imagine a life without Sammy. He couldn't imagine living, and know that Sammy was dead. "Come on, look at me. It's not even that bad," he lied. Sam's head rolled to the side, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Sammy? SAM!" he yelled, then calmed down, "We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you." Sam was dying. Dean could see the light fading from his eyes. _

_NO. "That's my job. To take care of my pain in the ass little brother." He laughed, but not because it was funny. It was because he was scared. Sam's eyes had closed, and Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Sam?" he asked, praying that he would answer. Nothing. "Sammy!" And Dean watched as Sam died in his arms. "No," was all he could say. _

_The moon against the night sky shone beautifully in the sky over the Winchesters, but that wasn't right Dean kept thinking. Sammy was dead. Nothing in the world should be beautiful. Not even women. Dean held Sam's body to him, grimacing as he fought the tears._

"_SAM!"_

Dean gasped and jerked awake. He could feel tears running down his face. He sat up in his bed, furiously wiping them away. He twisted around and saw Sam sitting at the table, his laptop in front of him. He looked up, and smiled. "Morning, sunshine!"

"Shut up," Dean said, rolling out of bed. Sam raised his eyebrows.

"So, I thought we could grab some breakfast at that diner down the street before we start working," Sam said, his smile fading and a look of concern taking its place.

"Cool," Dean said, pulling on his jeans and a plaid shirt. Sam glanced back down at the computer. "What are you looking at?" Dean asked, lacing up his boots.

"I Googled that guy from yesterday."

"That weird one? Monk or whatever his name was?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

Dean just stared. "Why?"

Sam leaned forward. "Don't you think that after everything we've been through with the police that this guy can just waltz in and know we didn't kill Frank, just by being at the crime scene?"

Dean looked at his brother. "Yeah, I guess so."

Sam went back to his computer. "Adrian Monk has solved more cases that practically anyone in the S.F. police force combined. Everywhere I've looked, everyone says he's the best."

Dean stood behind Sam and looked at the screen. "Yeah, he's good. So what? He's behind us, now. So let's go get some chow!" Dean started for his keys, but Sam stopped him.

"We're walking."

Dean froze. He looked at Sam with an odd expression. "Why?" he asked in a small voice.

Sam paused while putting on his jacket to look at his brother's expression. He sighed exasperatedly. "Dude, it's just down the street. We're walking."

"But, my car…," Dean started to say, but he never got to finish. Sam threw him his jacket and pushed him out the door. "Walk."

Five minutes later, Dean sat down in the diner's booth. "What the hell, Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he sat across from Dean. A waitress with long, curly red hair appeared with menus. The tag on her shirt read _Stevie_. She smiled at Dean, who had suddenly gone wide eyed and seemed to sit up a little straighter. "Can I get ya'all something to drink?" she asked with a slight Texas accent escaping.

"Two coffees, please," Dean said, smiling and winking.

Sam rolled his eyes yet again. "And some cream and sugar, too."

"Sure thing, boys," Stevie said, walking back to the counter. She turned her head back and smiled at Dean, who looked back with a hopeful expression in his eyes.

"Dean? Earth to Dean," Sam said, waving in front of his face.

"Wha...What?" Dean asked grumpily, tearing his eyes away from Stevie's back.

"So this case, it's got to be a demon, right?" Sam said, hiding a smile.

"Well there was sulfur at the scene, so I'm thinking yes," Dean said, his eyes straying to Stevie now and again. He glanced back at Sam, and frowned. "What's up with you?"

Sam shrugged. 'Well, I was kind of thinking, what if Lilith is behind this?"

Dean's eyes snapped back to Sam, a look of dead seriousness on his face. "Don't say that, Sammy, you hear me? She's got no idea where we are."

"But, I mean she found us in Colorado. Hell she blew up the police station looking for us. She killed Henricksen, Nancy, and..."

"I know what happened, Sam, I don't need the instant replay!"

Stevie had returned with the coffees. "There ya go. Ya'all ready to order?"

Dean grinned. "Yes. Yes we are."

"What can I get ya, sugar?"

It was taking all of Sam's self control not to hurl right now.

After breakfast, the Winchesters walked back up the street to the motel, Dean pocketing the napkin with Stevie's cell phone number, which had just happened to find its way on to Dean's plate.

"Yep, this one's a keeper," he was saying triumphantly as they enter the parking lot. He looked up and stopped, the smile completely gone from his face. Sam had stopped, too.

"Dude, what happened to your car?" he asked.

While they had been eating, someone had given the Impala a complete wash down. It was sitting there shining in front of their room.

"WHO THE HELL TOUCHED MY CAR?!" Dean bellowed.

"Calm down," Sam said, grabbing Dean by the shoulders.

Before Dean could insist that he was perfectly calm, an unpleasantly familiar voice from behind them said, "I did."

They both turned slowly and saw Adrian Monk, what would appear to be a pleasant smile on his face.

It was filthy, didn't you notice? I bet it was bugging everyone. I mean, anyone would have done it."

He watched as Dean fumed in anger and Sam looked surprised; still hold Dean by his jacket.

_Okay, so did not see this coming…,_ Sam thought.


	3. Sam's Flashback and Trudy's Picture

Well, I'm sorry I kept you all waiting. Suffered from a major writer's block. But here's Chapter 3! And I promise I'll update more often. Hopefully there are still people who're waiting from this chapter and are waiting from more!

Chapter 3: Sam's Flashback and Trudy's Picture

Dean had no idea how it had come to this.

"Do you like broccoli?" Monk asked, his head appearing from the kitchen.

Sam and Dean looked at one another. They were both sitting on Monk's couch. The two looked awkward in all of the right angles and straight lines. "I do," Sam said, "He doesn't."

"Kiss ass," Dean muttered under his breath. Monk nodded and his head vanished. Dean exhaled and leaned back, raising his leg as though to put it on the coffee table.

There was a hiss, and he looked up to see Monk's face. His eyes were unreadable, but Dean thought they were almost dangerous. He slowly lowered his leg and sat up. Monk's head disappeared yet again.

Sam choked on his laughter.

"Shut up," Dean muttered, "Would it kill this dude to bring us a beer?"

"Actually, I don't drink," Monk's voice said.

Dean stared in the direction of the kitchen. "Pardon?" he asked, "You don't drink?"

"No."

"Perfect," Dean said, glaring at Sam, who looked ready to explode with laughter. "Enlighten me. Why did you insist on having lunch with this guy?"

Sam's smiled faltered as the memory came back...

--

Dean had broken free of Sam's grasp and started walking towards Monk with an expression of pure fury on his face.

"What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With . YOU?!" Dean said in fury. Sam had seized the back of his jacket.

"Dean, just calm down..."

"You don't just go and wash a person's car with out permission!" Dean was saying, completely ignoring Sam and his struggle to restrain his brother from kicking Monk's ass.

Monk placed a hand on the shiny, clean car, which made Dean cringe. "You should have seen it," Monk insisted, "If you really loved this car so much, you should have washed it months ago.

This had shocked Dean to silence. Sam took control of the situation. "Mr. Monk, why are you here?" he asked, moving in front of his brother, who was still trying to comprehend what Monk had said to him.

Monk shifted his balance. "Well, I couldn't help but feel you two weren't very honest with me yesterday. We need to find the person who killed Mr. Sanders, and if you have any information, the police would greatly appreciate it." The Winchesters were trying to look as innocent as humanly possible. Monk went on, "Now, I was thinking that maybe talking in the station was making you reluctant to talk, so I thought maybe being out of the interrogation room might ease your nerves. Would you care to join me for lunch? Maybe we could discuss Mr. Sander's death then."

Dean snorted. "Oh yeah. Eating lunch with a cop is so much better than sitting in a room with cameras with...COPS."

"I'm not a cop," Monk said, "I was, but... I'm a police consultant now." Dean just stared with his mouth slightly open. He looked as if he was still trying to make sense out of this. Sam, on the other hand, looked intrigued.

"We would be very happy to have lunch," Sam said, with a slightly confused smile, "Right Dean?'

"Mmmmmmaguuuaaaaaahhh," Dean said, still out of it.

"Is that a yes?" Monk asked.

"Sure, I guess so," Sam said.

Monk nodded. "Excellent. An even 12 then?" Sam nodded and Monk nodded again. After giving Sam the necessary information, he turned and walked off, touching each of the parking meters as he passed them.

--

And that's how it had happened. Dean had spent the rest of the morning arguing with his brother, but Sam had insisted until Dean had given in.

Dean was now taking a self guided tour of Monk's apartment. He stopped to look at a picture of an attractive blonde woman. He glanced around and saw that her picture was everywhere. Dean raised his eyebrows as Monk came into view.

"Who's the babe?" Dean asked, jerking his head towards the picture. Monk stiffened.

"That's Trudy. She's my wife," he said in an expressionless tone. Sam had been looking at Trudy's pictures.

Dean looked at the picture, and then at Monk, as though he couldn't believe Monk had scored a woman as pretty as Trudy. "Well, why isn't the Mrs. here making lunch for us?" he asked.

"She died." Monk's face was dead serious. Dean closed his mouth, looking ashamed.

"How...?" Sam started.

"Car bomb," Monk said tonelessly, "I was on the force at that time. The police still haven't caught him."

"Look, man," Dean said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"It's fine," Monk said, moving towards one of the pictures, "You didn't know."

Sam was beside Monk and was staring at the picture, too. "She was very beautiful," he said softly.

Monk nodded sadly. "Yes. She was."

There was a long period of awkward silence between Monk and the Winchesters. Dean sniffed and suddenly said, "Is something burning?"

Monk snapped out of his trance and hurried into the kitchen. Sam followed him, saying, "I'll help you Mr., Monk."

Dean stood in the middle of Monk's living room. Trudy was watching him from all around the room. He looked at the picture again and felt a moment of guilt as he realized how much pain he must of cause Monk by bringing up Trudy. He shook it off as Sam called for him. He had to stay focused. He didn't want Monk interfering with their investigation.


End file.
